


Please Come Out Tonight

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt comes to visit Jesse; takes place between Gliding Over All and Blood Money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Come Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Written for kink bingo, square, "sensation play".

_“Please come out tonight I need you here  
it’s been a long, long time and I can't wait  
let's find out, let's see what it's like out there  
if it rains we'll find somewhere, somewhere dry and warm…”_  
\- Phil Collins, “Please Come Out Tonight”

It had been three months since they had spoken last, since the day Walt had left a duffel bag on Jesse’s doorstep that had contained five million dollars, but that Jesse had been worried would contain a bomb or, if possible, something far worse – a body. A body of some innocent that Jesse would be responsible for the death of… 

The younger man had slowly plugged in his phone, allowing himself to be reached again. For Andrea’s sake, if she needed to get a hold of him. Or maybe someone else, though he didn’t know who, anymore. He was certain this was the last of his contact with the great Heisenberg. He’d lived through it.

It seemed almost as if, as soon as he plugged the phone back in, it rang with a ferocity that nearly knocked Jesse off his feet. He stared at it. Who was calling? Who could be calling him but someone with bad news? Hadn’t it been nothing but bad news, horrible news as of late? He wished he could be numb to it but he had been cut so deep that that was an impossibility. Every stretch scratched the nerves.

His hands were shivering as he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” His voice was quiet. How many people even knew he was here? What disaster was this going to lead into?

“Jesse?” It was Mr. White’s voice, and it was strangely calm. Jesse wasn’t sure whether to slow or quicken his own breathing in response; if Mr. White was calm maybe that meant that nothing bad was going on and he just wanted to talk to him. But it could also mean that he was calm because he had come to a resolute decision to dump Jesse in a ditch somewhere. 

“Hey… uh… Mr. White. How’s it going?”

“I’m… well.” The older man’s voice paused. “And you?”

“I’m… uh…” Jesse couldn’t bring himself to say he was “good” and he certainly couldn’t pull off “well”, so he finally ended up with, “I’m… alive, Mr. White.”

“I’d like to see you.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jesse replied quietly. “I mean… We’re both out. There really isn’t any reason…”

“I’m not talking about the business, Jesse.”

Jesse shivered. Why did Mr. White have to call up, talking about something like that? Something that he only thought about with the doors locked and the windows shut. 

“Is it about Mike?” 

“No.” Walt sounded angry at that. “When I allude to that, why would I be talking about Mike? I am talking about us, Jesse. Our…”

“Okay, yo, Mr. White. You don’t need to… call it something. Come up with a name for it. I know… what it is.”

“So can I see you?”

Jesse let out a deep breath. Maybe Mr. White wanted to see him to give him a quick shot in the head. Right now, Jesse found that that thought filled him less with fear and more with relief. 

“Yeah… You can see me.”

***

They met behind Jesse’s house, sitting at a rickety old picnic bench he’d purchased recently at some yard sale, just for the hell of it. There were stars scattered against the blue-black sky, and both of them looked up into it for a long time before either of them spoke.

“It’s back.” Walt’s words were quiet, almost imperceptible. But Jesse heard them. He was connected to the older man in ways that he couldn’t understand and probably didn’t want to, ways that cut him to the core and then stitched him up. 

“Oh God, Mr. White.” Jesse’s voice was a cry. He didn’t know what to say. He hated this man; he loved him, the two feelings were so connected for Jesse that he didn’t know which way was even up anymore. “What can I do?”

Walt was looking up into the sky. Jesse didn’t know what he was thinking of; maybe that conversation where he’d declared they were both going to Hell anyway, so what did he care. Maybe now that reality was a little closer, a little scarier. Jesse didn’t know. Walt played things pretty close to the vest. 

“You can stay.” Walt’s voice was quiet.

“I’ll stay,” Jesse vowed. “I promise I’ll stay. I’d never let you…” He trailed off, not wanting to say the words. That he would never let the older man die alone. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to picture it, but yet he did. The images were burned against his forehead, taking away little bits and pieces of what he had left of his soul.

“Let’s go inside.” 

Jesse followed Walt’s words like they were commands, even though they were said quietly, almost too low to hear. 

“Okay,” he whispered back. 

When they arrived in Jesse’s living room, Jesse sat on the futon, staring ahead as if every sight, every sound were meaningless. All that was important was that fact, that horrible fact that Walt had told him. That Jesse would be alone in the world, soon, without anyone else who knew what he had been through. All alone, in the dark, in the cold. But worse than that. He would be numb. 

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he did.

“Mr. White… I don’t want to be numb.”

Walt turned his head and looked at him, confused. 

“Make me feel something,” Jesse pleaded. 

“Okay.” Walt’s voice was coaxing in a way Jesse hadn’t heard in a very, very long time. “Lay down on the futon. I’ll make you feel. I promise.”

Jesse’s eyes were wide, his heart split open as he complied. All he could do was trust Mr. White, even if every other sense, every other bit of logic was telling him not to. Because without his old teacher, without his only friend left, who did he have and what did he have? Nothing at all. 

“Mr. White… don’t leave me.” Jesse hadn’t meant to speak the words, only to think them, but they must have come out because Walt leaned in to press a hungry kiss against his lips. He kissed him for what seemed like forever, pressing his tongue so far into Jesse’s throat that the younger man wasn’t sure that he’d be able to catch his breath. He could never catch his breath when Walt was around, and maybe that fit because the older man’s breath was getting stolen too, day by day until one day when Jesse tried to look for him or waited for his call, there’d be nothing left of him except a memory. He wanted more than a memory. When he got his voice back, he whispered, “Mark me.”

The older man’s teeth attached quickly to Jesse’s neck; they pressed in hard and sharp and Jesse couldn’t get away from the feeling, even if he wanted to. So he just let it happen, let himself feel the red mark rise up that he knew could be seen by Saul or whoever happened to be looking. Other than Saul, he didn’t even know who he’d be talking to over the next month. But there was a thrill to it nonetheless, the idea of Mr. White marking him as his own, of sending this feeling coursing through him that was too much for Jesse and exactly just what he needed at the same time.

“Mr. White,” Jesse groaned out. He kicked his feet, rolled his shoulders, dragged his hand across his face before the older man finally let go of him.

Their eyes met, and Jesse nodded. Walt had to know what that meant, had to know that Jesse needed more. That Jesse had been feeling nothing but numbness and despair for so long that it would take more to send him back into sensation, into real feeling.

“Okay, okay,” Walt told him; his hands stroking all over Jesse’s chest, rough and calloused. “I won’t leave you. I promise. I can’t…” He trailed off, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to let out the words. 

“Make me feel something,” Jesse breathed out, and Walt rose from their spot. 

“Let’s go back outside,” he suggested, “We could… we could go look at the stars.” Jesse’s lips curled into a shy, small smile.

“Okay,” he said softly. Walt nearly carried him out the door, letting it swing shut behind them. “I like the stars,” Jesse whispered. “I used to… I used to sit out when I was a kid and camp… and…” He took a step and sat in the soft grass.

Walt sat next to him.

“What would you do, Jesse?” He put an arm around the younger man, and Jesse drank it in like the bite, drank in the feeling of warmth in the cold air, of safety and comfort. 

“I would lay in the grass, get off the blankets. I’d watch the lightning bugs fly around and I’d… I’d catch them. I would let them run around on my hand and…” Jesse trailed off as he saw one fly right by him, its little bulb flickering in the night. 

“Catch it, Jesse,” Walt whispered, but Jesse didn’t move.

The older man cupped his hand and extended it, letting the little creature land in his palm before closing his other hand on top of it.

“Hand out,” he whispered, and Jesse complied, his eyes wide. Walt slowly moved his hand downward, and the lightning bug tumbled into Jesse’s palm. 

Jesse didn’t close his hand around it. Instead he watched as it ran about, flickering on, then off, then on, before wiggling its little feet and taking flight off into the distance.

“Sometimes I’d wonder if the stars were just all lightning bugs,” Jesse said, not looking at his old teacher. 

Walt closed an arm around him, pulling him in and enveloping him in an embrace that made every nerve ending light up.

“Let’s stay here tonight,” was all he said. “You and I, like this. Would you like that, Jesse?”

Jesse crooked his head and looked over at Walt.

“Yes.”


End file.
